1942 (Part 24 - "Just kills us, please!")
Spectacles and Scarface lead a phalanx of men across the mist-covered airstrip, a half-crazed blood-thirsty look in their eyes, as they head straight for the four of us.
“They are coming to finish us off,” I croak, twisting my head to see if Siss is awake. The movement sends bolts of pain through my tightly bound, crucified body.
“Spears!” gasps Siss, spotting the crude long bamboo shafts with sharpened points carried by a number of the soldiers.
“No more … no more, please! Just kills us, please! Siss screams hysterically.
From across the way, Yupar yells hysterically, “The leeches … inside me … sucking the blood of my cunt!”
“We triumph should we die bravely,” observes Messaline, shifting her hips from side to side in a vain attempt to shake off a new wave of leeches slowly making their way up her thighs.
In seconds Spectacles, Scarface and the soldiers crowd excitedly around us. The soldiers jabber at one another, eager to get on with the final act of our execution drama. Scarface shouts something incomprehensible. The soldiers come to attention. Standing with their legs braced slightly apart, and raising their arms in unison, they shout some kind of oath, the little flaps on the backs of their field caps flopping comically. The air fills with the sickly smell of their heavily liquored breath.
They have dragged the dead bodies of Blaire, Bull, Paul and Phlebas with them across the airstrip, and have heaped them on the ground before us. Spectacles shouts orders. Blaire’s nude corpse is strung up, one wrist tied to my cross and the other to Siss’. They suspend her spread-eagled between us, head hanging listlessly, the dark end of an iron rod still protruding grotesquely from her ass.
Now they drag poor Wragg around in front of me. Dirty and disheveled, he looks like he is at the end of his rope, as they strip away his clothes, beat him mercilessly, and then tie him to my cross, his head upturned between my spread legs. He says something incomprehensible to me, and then lets out a blood curdling scream as one of the bamboo spears is driven through his gut. Blood spurts from his mouth, he makes a hideous gurgling sound as his head lolls forward.
Siss shakes her head and looks away.
The corpses of Bull, Paul and Phlebas are tied in similar fashion between the legs of the other three girls. The Japs are assembling a most grizzly tableau, for what purpose I cannot imagine. But they seem intent on it. Having completed this bit of handiwork, they return to their ritualistically frenzied cheering. I close my eyes, their repeated huzzahs ringing in my ears, I unable to watch.
The sun has risen over the trees of the nearby jungle by now, and we are bathed in its warm morning rays. The temperature is rising fast; the mist over the airstrip rapidly evaporating. I have begun to sweat, irritating the inflamed cuts and scratches that cover my bare breasts, tummy and thighs. The ropes binding my wrists and ankles to the bamboo frame of my cross have by now cut deeply and bloodily into my flesh. I try to flex my fingers, but there is no feeling.
I drift in and out of consciousness, but am suddenly brought back by the staccato high-pitched sound of Spectacles’ voice as he issues new orders. I blink, and try to focus on what is happening. The soldiers have formed up in ranks facing Messa and Yupar, and two of them bearing long bamboo spears have stepped to the front. Spectacles and Scarface stand off to one side at stiff attention. Spectacles holds a ceremonial sword upright in his right hand.
Siss rasps, “Oh! My god … no!!!!!!”
On Spectacles command, the first of the spear-bearing soldiers’ advances on Messaline, who eyes him warily and begins to softly sing once again, “Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai.” Her soft lilting singing is cut short, however; morphing into a terrible scream as her assailant jabs the sharp point of his bamboo spear into the soft underside of her right breast, drawing a rush of blood as he withdraws it. The assembled soldiers throw their arms in the air and shout another huzzah.
She resumes her song, but with less assurance now, “Je te plumerai la tête, Je te plumerai la tête, Et la tête! Et la tête! Alouette! Alouette! A-a-a-ah.”
A moment later, he spears her again, this time in the left breast just to one side of her nipple. Huzzahs again. Spectacles lowers his sword in a swift downward motion and nods.
Here comes the coup de grâce, I think.
The soldier steps two steps back, and then bursts forward with a cry of “banzai” and runs Messaline through, the bloody point of his bamboo spear poking through to her back. Her head jerks back, blood spurts from her mouth and nose, her eyes open and wide. Then with a low moan she goes limp against the bamboo frame of her cross.
Tears run down my cheeks as I whisper to myself, “Goodbye Messaline”.
Attention now shifts to Yupar’s spread-eagled body and the spear-bearing soldier facing her. Spectacles raise his sword. The soldier hesitates then advances on Yu holding his spear low. Falling to one knee he buries the spear point with a swift underhand motion into her leech covered sex.
Blood runs in torrents down Yupar’s legs as he brutally twists the spear left and right and in and out. She writhes and twists in agony, raises her head … face contorted in pain … and screams her lungs out for what seems an eternity before her head lolls forward, long dark hair shrouding her upper torso. A renewed chorus of huzzahs from the soldiers fills the air.
Withdrawing the bloody-pointed bamboo shaft, he turns to Spectacles, who lowers his sword and nods. The soldier salutes, yells “banzai” and promptly runs the naked and defenseless Burmese girl through.
“Oh! Sweet Jesus!” Siss screams.
Messa and Yupar hang limp, heads down, hair covering their faces. The soldiers laugh as they twist the Bamboo over and over.
Two executions down, two to go. The assembled troops perform a smart military about-face to confront Siss and me. I scan their grim, sadistic-looking faces, and steel myself for the worst.
“This is it Siss,” I announce with unexpected calmness.
Again, two soldiers bearing bamboo spears step forward. Mine appears to be near-sighted. He is short and bow-legged, and squints up uncertainly at me through thick eyeglasses. Siss’ executioner is the exact opposite … muscular, swaggering and fierce-looking.
Air raid sirens begin to sound. The air is filled with the sound of approaching aircraft, which roar over our heads at low level. Sticks of bombs are falling. My god, are we to be rescued or will the bombs kill us spread-eagled here amongst our capturers?
The noncoms scatter ... Some scrambling to man machine guns. Others simply take cover. Spectacles and Scarface are screaming orders but they seem to be ignored.
I keep looking toward Siss, she is writhing in a frantic panic.
The bombs are falling all along the airstrip. In the distance, screams can be heard coming from the main camp. A string of bombs explode just a few hundred yards in front of us. Shrapnel and gravel from the tarmac shower us all.
Scarface throws Spectacles one of the bamboo spears. They exchange a determined nod and position themselves on either side of Siss, now screaming in fearful apprehension of what is about to happen.
Grasping the their spears firmly with both hands, they simultaneously drive their spears upward just below her rib cage, passing through her and emerging from the opposite side, just below her shoulders. Her mouth opens wide, her head flies back then falls forward to her chest. A trickle of bright red blood drips from her mouth and runs down her chest. She is gone.
The jungle is aflame. The crackling sound of trees and underbrush igniting fills the air. Sunlight streams across the landscape as the morning clouds begin to part, illuminating the immediate blood-stained scene as well as the hills to the west.
If help is coming, it’s too late for Siss and me. Scarface and Spectacles are determined to finish the job they have started. I glance over at Siss’ lifeless body, her light blonde hair tossed about by the occasional hot gust of wind.
I look down at Scarface and Spectacles. They are just standing there with spears in hand. I scream at them as loud as I can, “DO IT DAMN IT!!! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR NOW! JUST DO IT!!!!!”
I raise my head, take a deep breath and stare out towards the hills. I see two flashes of light high on the hillside closest to me as my insides are torn and spilt. I feel the air leave my lungs. I am blind. Why can’t I see …???????
Finis
Barb and Siss, 2015
